


Life

by stharridan



Series: Older, Not Dead [7]
Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-31
Updated: 2012-05-31
Packaged: 2017-11-06 09:42:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/417445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stharridan/pseuds/stharridan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life as a shinigami is never easy, but when Jushiro opens his eyes, he finds that there still exists little pleasures that make living all the more worthwhile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life

Life as a shinigami is never easy. Once one graduates the academy, one is inevitably exposed to the actual horrors of Soul Society, horrors that which lecturers at school make sure don't corrupt fragile minds. But, despite that, students still face the risk of death whenever fieldtrips are organized – no one can really predict a hollow's movements, let alone its strength.

Being a captain, one of the oldest and experienced, Ukitake Jushiro isn't a stranger to the terror that lies outside the Seireitei's protective walls. He knows that there will come a day when he'll be cut down by someone, some _thing_ ,far more powerful than him. There lies no reason to deny it, to deny death, but then what strikes him as rather funny is the fear that engulfs him whenever he ponders about death. As a shinigami, one straddling the seat of captaincy nonetheless, Jushiro knows that he's expected to be fairly used to it. But no, no one can ever get used to death. Everyone has their limits, even captains.

Jushiro spends his days preparing for the battle that will take his life. He dreads the day, but he knows that it will come. He wakes up every morning wondering whether it's going to be the day he'll finally leave Soul Society, leave everything that he holds most dear behind. Whether he dies in a bloody fight for justice, to protect those that he cherishes, or lying on his sickbed coughing up a storm till his lungs give out is beyond his own decision.

Sometimes he dreads falling asleep, afraid that he'll wake up in a different dimension without the familiar, comforting warmth encircling him. Often he finds himself reluctant to open his eyes, fearing that the Seireitei won't look the same as it did when he first fell asleep. Life as a shinigami is bleak, drenched in blood, a world carved open by a zanpakuto that's always sharpened, ready, ever prepared for battle.

But when Jushiro _does_ open his eyes, he's greeted with a sight so unlike what one would find in a world overshadowed by darkness.

His nose is pressed up against a hard chest, arms draped around his waist, and when he looks up, he sees a flash of a canine, a grin, feels those arms tighten around him and a wet, sloppy kiss to his shoulder.

For Jushiro, these are the moments that make life as a shinigami a little less painful.


End file.
